


The Cabin in the Woods

by hobinanu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Rebellion, Slow Burn, but you get to skip the slow burn part, shitty parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobinanu/pseuds/hobinanu
Summary: Castiel is a prince trapped in his tower. Dean is a sweet villager who makes Cas laugh like he hasn’t in years. But little does the prince know that his innocent seeming villager may be hiding something from him.(cas is locked in a high tower and dean is planning a rebellion)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is just a prologue! I guess it’s kind of a wordy prologue lol  
> This is set at their first meeting so they’re both 18 in this fic

Castiel awoke to the same sights he saw everyday every day. His same bed, his same canopy, and his same window that he longed to float out of. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his hands over his face. He wondered what his father had in store for him today. His thought process was interrupted by one of the maids giving her signature feather light knock, so soft you would miss it had he not been waiting for her.

He called for her to enter, and he caught a glimpse of the guards that were stationed at his door. They never talked to him. No one did. Save for the small responses of maids when it was required. Hannah, the maid who attended to him, entered with a tray filled with a measly portion of his usual breakfast, only toast. She kept her eyes down as she set it on his lap gingerly. Her hands were restless, so he decided to question her.

“Hannah.” He questioned coolly, trying not to spook the poor girl. The look of fear on her face was unjustified with him, although not with the King. “May I ask what happened to my breakfast?” She looked even further to the floor, as though she was directly responsible for the King’s orders. As if Castiel was going to punish her for something his father did. “It’s alright if you don’t know, however this is far less than I usually get.” She twisted her hands once more before speaking

“Your… His Majesty suggested to the kitchen staff that they should start limiting your diet. He said that you were putting on unnecessary weight.” She trembled as she spoke. “I’m very sorry, your Highness. We will see to it that you begin getting necessary nutrition even in limited meals.” Worry and a hint of empathy graced her delicate features.

“It is not your doing, there is nothing to be worried about. I appreciate you bringing this to me.” Castiel tried smiling at her, but it never could reach his eyes. “What is on my agenda today?”

“His Majesty would like your company at dinner tonight.” It wasn’t an invitation, it was request. He nodded. “Otherwise, you have no engagements.” He loved hearing that. It was his favorite phrase to hear grace Hannah’s lips. That, and ‘It appears His Majesty will be away for a time.’

“Perfect. Thank you, Hannah. You are dismissed.” She gave a deep curtsy and took her leave.

Castiel stared at the plate in front of him. He decided to nibble on the toast as he looked for his outfit for the day. He walked into his closet filled with lush, ornate fabrics. He was convinced he had never worn the same outfit twice. Well, he had worn one outfit a few times. He dug into the chest hidden under his suits, veils, and robes. Inside, a few well-worn uniforms from the kitchen staff were hidden along with his journals and a few old books his mother had given him before she passed, as well as other trinkets he had picked up. He had to keep them hidden away or else his father would have them burned, along with all other traces of his mother.

He changed into the uniform slowly, not wanting to make a ruckus in the silent room. He grabbed the heavy, black cloak from the bottom of the trunk and made his way to his window. He gazed out over Himmel, the town he had never left, and made his plan for the day. He climbed out of his window, shimmied as best he could down the pipes on the sides of the castle, and jumped the last few feet. He always laughed when he fell on the soft grass beneath his window; he never allowed himself to laugh inside the castle walls.

This was always the hardest part. He found humor in the fact that simply walking out the front gates was so much more anxiety inducing than the 8 foot drop off some pipes he could barely maintain a grasp on. He calmly walked to the exit and greeted the guards there with his head bowed. It felt foreign to him to bow his head to anyone other than the king, but it was all just another part of his ruse. They sized him up, a nervous looking kitchen attendant sent into town on an errand. They nodded to each other and signaled for the gate to be opened. Castiel bowed politely to them and carried on his way.

Going into town had become his new means of escape, it was his only solace. He knew he could never leave the city limits without drawing suspicion, but somehow the rebellious nature of even going out into the town, letting people look upon his face that his father had done such a good job of hiding from the world, it spurred him on further. It was almost scandalous in nature and it filled him with adrenaline in a way that his piano lessons and galas never could.

He first stopped by the fruit stand. He had been denied fruit this morning, only getting a measly slice of toast, so he grabbed a few apples. He some in his canvas tote, taking a bite out of the one he deemed ‘most adequate’. He gave the fruit stand owner a gold coin, walking away as the frail, older woman gawked at the coin and tried to give it back to him. He didn’t want there to be any room for argument. His father’s money deserved to be back in its true owner’s hands.

He continued throughout the town. He picked up little trinkets that caught his eye, thinking they would be a nice addition to his chest collection. He finally found what he had come for. The paper man, Gadreel, was always very kind to him. He took out the bound notebooks and handed them gingerly to Castiel.

“I like this one,” Castiel’s finger danced over the rough, forest green cover. It lingered there for a moment before trailing to the soft purple one. He knew his mother would have wanted this one. “I’ll take these two, thank you.” He handed the rest back to Gadreel, along with two gold coins.

“James! You know this is far too much.” The book makers eyes widened. “They only cost two silver each!”

“I am well aware.” The disguised prince said coolly. He softened his brow. “Please keep them.” He walked away, waving back as he passed. The sun was still high in the sky, so he decided to explore the trails around him. He checked his surroundings, deemed everything to be in order, before heading into the woods.

He enjoyed the subtle sounds of nature. He listened for the crackle of twigs under his loafers and the chirping of the birds he seldom heard in the castle. He munched on his apple as he got himself further into the forest. The sun beamed down on him, warming his pale skin. He was lost in a thought when he felt his arm jerk out of its original position. A rough hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him to meet green eyes, rivaling that of the book he had just purchased. This stranger made it more confusing by greeting him with a bright smile and shoving his hood down to ruffle his dark hair.

“There you are Emmanuel! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” This stranger was keeping pace with Castiel, even though he had begun to jog away. “Hey! It’s not a race to get home, man. I know we haven’t seen each other in a while but you can’t be that excited to catch up.” The green-eyed man let out a chuckle that Castiel could have almost believed had he not spent his life perfecting his fake laugh. It stopped him. The stranger wrapped his arms around the prince and leaned in close to his ear. He continued in the lowest voice he could muster, the words coming out growling and low, “There’s been a man following you for a while, I think he wants to rob you. Follow me home and I’ll make sure he leaves you alone.” The stranger still grasped his arms when he leaned away, giving Castiel a beaming smile. Castiel tried to muster up a smile for this bewildering man.

“Ah yes… Michael,” Castiel started, unsure in his ability to act his way out of this. The man he was calling Michael’s smile got a little more real and a little slyer. He gave Castiel a slight nod, one meant just for him. To tell him he was doing good. The prince continued, “it is a pleasure to see you again. I would love to catch up, but I seem to have forgotten the way to your house. Would you mind leading the way?” His mind had gone on autopilot, and he had reverted back to the calm and collected prince he prided himself on being. The stranger stared at him, stunned into silence.

“Of-of course!” He looped their arms together, seemingly uncaring that there was someone watching them at that very moment. Perhaps he wanted this moment to seem more intimate than it was, to give the illusion of familiarity to scare the robber away. These thoughts roamed Castiel’s mind as they walked, arm in arm, to a modest cabin near the edge of town. The stranger unlinked their arms and opened the door for him. “After you, sir.” He said with jest in his voice. Castiel bowed lightly with a small smile on his face as he entered the strange home.

The outside seemed to mimic the inside. It was cozy, still warm from the fire that was burning earlier. The furnishings looked soft and well worn, unlike the nearly unused furniture in the parlor rooms of the castle. Once inside, the stranger checked the windows before closing them. He wiped some sweat off his brow before cackling.

“Woo, you really dodged a bullet there.” The stranger moved to the kitchen and Castiel felt compelled to follow him. He took out a bottle of whiskey from the very top of his cabinets and two glasses and begun pouring. “I’ve seen some of the fellas they’ve robbed around here, it’s real nasty stuff. I wouldn’t be wandering the woods around with your bags like that again.” The stranger pushed a glass towards him. He took the more generously filled one and brought it to his lips. “To you not getting robbed.” He pushed his glass forward. Castiel grabbed for his glass so he could clink it against the man’s. He settled it back down without drinking, which made an unpleasant expression appear on the other man’s face.

“You know, it’s bad luck to not drink after a cheers.” A smirk appeared on the stranger’s face. He began pouring himself another generous finger. “Just saying.” Castiel took this as something of a challenge. He picked his drink up again, staring into the caramel liquid. He didn’t have enough time to smell it before it was in his mouth and down his throat.

“Woah,” They both shared a laugh together. Castiel didn’t know why he was laughing at this point, but seeing this other man, with his summer green eyes, his sun-warmed skin, and smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, break into laughter made him want to as well. “My names Dean, by the way. I feel weird that I’ve already gotten you a drink and I don’t even know your name.” Dean’s hand came to scratch at the nape of his neck, his freckles disappearing into a deep blush that was forming. Whether it was from the alcohol or the situation, Castiel would never know. Castiel knew one thing though, he could not tell Dean his name.

“Uh,” he finally spoke, “I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James” Dean’s teeth flashed as he smiled at Castiel. The Prince felt himself giving back a genuine smile.

“You too, Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I timeskipped for this chapter because I didn’t feel like writing two year’s worth of slowburn. However, that may change and there may be some oneshots of their time together at some point. Now is when real plot development happens.

Over the years, escaping to Dean’s little cabin became Castiel’s one solace in life. It was the one thing that kept him sane. He enjoyed the other man’s company. His bright eyes and wide smile, all teeth and mirth, never failing to bring a genuine smile to the prince’s face. 

He had almost been caught many times, the guards at his door hearing him shuffling and knocking to see if everything was okay, the guards at the gate getting suspicious of why a measly kitchen staffer needed to go to town so often and stay so long, and of course when he fell off of the pipes that had never failed him before and he swore his leg was broken. That day, he had managed to limp to Dean’s house, green eyes squinting as rough hands worked meticulously over Castiel’s leg. He had been so gentle that day, so unlike his usual cocky and chatty demeanor. 

Today, however, everything would be different. How was Castiel to know that when he awoke in his bed. He stared out the window as he waited for his breakfast, if he could even call it that. His diet of toast and broth hadn’t changed in years, he was becoming used to it. Hannah’s knock alerted him to her presence. She was one of the few staff members that didn’t change once a month, most likely due to the fact that she kept to his side of the castle, staying away from the King.

“You have no engagements today, your Highness. However, his Majesty would like you to consider the candidates for proposal on your time off.” He didn’t want to think about this. His father had been pressuring him to marry. There was a myriad of women that his father had proposed as his future wife, but he did not want to think of it. He knew that whoever he married would just be a pawn in his father’s games. Castiel nodded to her and dismissed her.

He left as he usually did. The guards at the gate now used to his frequent trips and let him through with no questions. He made his usual stops and carried on to Dean’s house. Ever since that day, years ago, he had been smarter about his path. Never taking the main trail with his bags and always hiding his little pouch of gold in his socks before he went into the woods. He stopped himself when he heard voices from inside Dean’s cabin. 

He walked around to the side where he knew Dean kept a window open, careful to watch his step as his soft, leather soles touched the grass and twigs around the cabin. The curtains were shut, but the window was slightly ajar. Castiel found himself pressing his back to the cool stone walls and closing his eyes to listen. He heard an unfamiliar voice.

“I just…” The voice trailed off and sighed, “I don’t know if we have enough men for this. It’s a big enough risk just storming the gates, but you know that once we get inside there’s going to be hundreds, maybe even thousands of guards just waiting to slaughter our disloyal, treason loving asses.” The voice, worried and shrill, was getting louder, Castiel heard Dean give a hush.

“Dammit Garth, do you want anyone walking by to hear that a coup is being staged!” He heard another unfamiliar voice, one that was gruff and low. Castiel had to cover a gasp that had dared to slip out. Of course Dean was a part of the rebellion. His father’s regime had been loathed by the people for years, however no such uprisings had ever been attempted.

“Well, I mean it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” He heard a smack and struggled to stifle his laughter,” We could get more fighters.” Castiel heard the first voice offer. Eventually, a chuckled managed to escape past his lips and the hand that had been keeping them in. All commotion from the cabin stopped in an instant. He heard Dean speak hesitantly this time, a much different tone than he was used to, but one that didn’t fail to draw him into the voice.

“Wha- Hello?” Dean offered. His voice was shaky. Castiel knew he was scared. In an instant, he was flat on his back on the soft grass he always loved. He was staring into blue eyes, deep set into a gaunt, almost childlike face.

“Who are you?” The man questioned. Castiel knew it was the first voice, Garth. He struggled to find his own voice with a grown man sitting on top of him and a cutlass pressed to his throat.

“I- I’m James. I’m Dean’s friend.” His own blue eyes stared up into the stranger who was keeping him captive. He hoped he was convincing. When he felt the pressure lifting, he knew he had at least been convincing enough for Garth. A large smile broke out on his face.

“Well why didn’t you say so!” He offered, eyes crinkling as he offered Castiel a hand up. “I’m Garth. What are you doing creeping around like this?” His smile never left his face. It was almost scarier to Castiel than the guards who tried to keep him in line with their harsh stares. 

“I heard unfamiliar voices; I didn’t want to disturb Dean if he was busy.” Castiel brushed the dirt off his old uniform. Garth began walking back towards the entrance.

“Well any friend of Dean’s is a friend of ours!” Garth opened the door and shouted, “Dean! Are you expecting a James?” Castiel couldn’t see Dean’s expression, but his voice softened.

“Yeah, I’m always expecting him.” Dean chuckled to himself. “Let him in, and don’t keep him hostage, he’s more than welcome here.” Garth finally sheathed his knife and gestured for Castiel to enter. “Hey James.” Dean smirked.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel was still nervous, and it seemed as though Dean could sense this.

“Alright guys, this was a good meeting, but James and I gotta catch up. See you next week?” He began to walk the other two out the door, urging them to finish their drinks. 

“Yeah, see ya Dean. Try not to get into too much trouble.” The second voice Castiel had heard offered. He was a stout, older man with a beard. He looked friendly enough, but the prince had heard enough about what the rebels would do to him from his father to not trust them completely. Not like he trusted Dean.

“Bye Bobby, Garth.” The door was finally closed, and Dean let out a sigh. “Sorry, but you can never be too careful with meetings like this.” He grabbed Castiel a new glass from his cupboard and began pouring the whiskey that was gifted to him by the disguised prince. “Ya know, I would never let them drink this stuff. It’s too nice to waste on those two alcoholics.” Castiel allowed himself to laugh at that. They both sipped their drinks when Castiel decided to break the silence.

“I didn’t know you were a part of the resistance.” He stared at his glass; he felt unable to meet the other’s soft green eyes in that moment. 

“It never came up.”

“I know…” Castiel began swirling the amber liquid, too nauseous too take a sip. It took everything in him to utter his next words, “I want to help.”

“What?” He felt Deans gaze on him, staring in disbelief. 

“I- I’ve read quite a bit about the monarchy.” Castiel continued. “I know about the King and his patterns and I feel like I could he-“

“James, James,” he felt Dean’s warm palm pressed to his shoulder. He looked into his eyes to see concern. “I’ve never brought this up because I didn’t want to pressure you. If you don’t want to be a part of the rebellion, it’s understandable.” Dean moved closer to him. “We know the risk in this, and I don’t want you to be another casualty.” Castiel could see how torn Dean was. 

“I know… but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to help.” Castiel finally felt sound enough to down his glass. “I know the guard patterns, I know how to get the King out of the castle, I know-“

“Wait, did you say you can get the King out of the castle?”

“I personally can’t, however, if you were to give the appearance of having more soldiers than you really do, he will flee. The King is so afraid of an uprising. Why do you think every insurgent has been jailed? He’s afraid of the numbers they can gain.” Castiel moved until him and Dean no longer had the small island in between them. They were merely a foot from each other. He could feel Dean’s hot, whiskey scented breath on his face. “He will be afraid of you and the numbers you command, even if they are a ruse.” Dean laughed heartily.

“Where have you been this whole time?” Dean set his glass down. “If we had you a month ago, we could have stormed the castle by now.” Dean’s flushed face was merely inches from his now. Castiel couldn’t even try to count Dean’s freckles now, his usual activity when they drank together. He was too focused on his lips. Pink, plush and so kissable. But Castiel forced himself to continue.

“I have been here and at my own home.” Castiel’s head cocked, which resulted in Dean doubling over. “However, if you want true change, you need to create an alliance with m… the prince.” It felt foreign to refer to himself as a prince, however, he did not want to give Dean any reason to doubt him. “If the King leaves, the prince will be in power. You must get to him before anyone else does.” Dean moved himself even closer. Castiel understood that he was intoxicated but was comforted by the close proximity of the man he had been entranced by for years.

“And how do I do that, James? Just request an audience with the illusive prince? Like that would ever be approved.” Dean threw back another drink and poured Castiel another, which he gratefully accepted.

“It might be easier to convince the prince than you think.” Castiel offered, sipping his own whiskey. It was smooth, with a smoky burn going down his throat. He felt his own head start to become fogged.

“He does have a major bag of dicks for a father.” Castiel felt himself laugh at this. He stared into Dean’s eyes, seeing a fondness there that he only experienced in this cabin. He felt himself lean in closer until their lips met. Dean’s hands reached up to tangle in his hair and rest on his back. This merely spurred him on, he grabbed at Dean’s shirt. When they broke apart they held each other’s eyes, not moving.

“Woah.” Castiel offered, dumbly. Dean smirked.

“Woah yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you want this to continue. My new quarantine activity is writing fanfiction so it probably will.


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